Dutchman's Pursuit

By David Vaillancour

Dutch Yancy is happy. He has Sasha, his Czechoslovakian wolf dog, a thriving business making clocks, and a happy, quiet life in small-town Oregon. The unexpected arrival of an old love and a violent bank robbery put paid to his quiet life as he singlehandedly embarks on the most important chase of his life to save the woman he once loved and his current romantic interest and to bring a vicious and violent gang to justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Apr 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514466148

David Vaillancour

David Vaillancour describes himself as a 3-2-1—three divorces, two branches of the military, and one war. A retired native of Michigan and California, for the past twenty-six years an ex-pat in England, he worked in quality control, computer operations, banking operations, systems design, telecommunications, and logistics. He served in the Marine Corps, army, and California National Guard and was in the infantry, air defense artillery, and armoured cavalry stationed in Alaska, California, Washington, and Vietnam. He currently shares his house near Yorkshire with his Finnish Lapphund, Hugo. In addition to Dutchman’s Pursuit, he has published Smokey Stover’s War.

Book preview

Chapter 1

He felt much better. Once the decision was made it felt as if a huge weight was lifted. It made him apprehensive, slightly worried. It was risky. She might not feel the same way. If she didn’t, well, he would have to cross that bridge if or when he came to it.

They were close. They had a close relationship – of sorts. Okay, so it was a work relationship, but they spent a lot of time together after work too, just the two of them. They shared a lot of personal stuff; well she had anyway. She trusted him, at least he was pretty sure she did. After three years, it was a good foundation.

He knew he was in the ‘Friend Zone’, but he believed people could move on from there. Why not? He was going to tell her before they left the office today. He thought about what he was going to say and how he would say it for a week. Today was the day; after three years, today was the day.

Later, just before it was time to leave for the day, he went to her office. He was ready; this was it! She was on the phone, very animated, and waved him in. He waited until she was through and had replaced the receiver. She looked at him expectantly.

Marcie, there’s something important I want to tell you. It’s  . . . .

"It’s the Van Arnsdale job; we got it! We beat all of them and we got it. This will make us, Dutch, do you realize that?"

That’s great, Marcie, but… .

Oh my God, I can’t believe we really did it!

He gave a small smile. "This is your win. The rest of us helped, but you drove the campaign. Listen, Marcie, there’s something I want to tell you  . . . ."

"I’ve got to call Arthur and let him know. He’s going to be one happy bunny. If we can pull this off, . . . what am I saying; when we pull this off, it’ll be the making of us. We’ll move right up there with the big guys."

Before he could say anything else, she picked up the phone and called Arthur Teasdale. "Arthur, are you sitting down? Well sit down. We got it!"

Marcie spent the next five minutes telling the agency head about her triumph. He waited patiently. When she replaced the receiver, she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

Well that’s the next six months shot to hell. She was beaming. Her face had that glow he’d seen a number of times, whenever she shifted into ‘Marcie Mode’.

Marcie, I want to say,  . . . .

"Save it, Dutch. There’ll be plenty of time for congrats after we pull this off. I better get alert the troops. I’m going to need everyone here by seven. The clock is ticking as of now." She picked up the phone and began dialling.

He would have no chance to tell her, not when she was in full flow as she was now. She’d landed a major account, the largest their agency had ever secured, and she wouldn’t think about anything else from now until they delivered the finished product. She would drive herself and everyone on the team every hour of every day until they were done and nothing, absolutely nothing else, would receive any of her attention.

He felt deflated, like a giant balloon whose skin had just been punctured. He could see the next six months unfolding; long hours, total absorption in the project, personal lives on hold. She wouldn’t see or hear or even breathe anything but the Van Arnsdale account. She’d already forgotten, if she ever realized, that he wanted to talk to her; that he had something important to say to her.

Why did I bother? What the fuck was I thinking? He got up and turned to leave. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t take another six months. Even if you could, something else would occupy her mind after that, and it damn sure wouldn’t be me.

Just a minute, she said into the receiver. Come in at seven, will you Dutch? Oh, and pick up doughnuts and bagels?

He didn’t bother to acknowledge her request. At least he’d been ready for this eventuality. He walked back to his cubicle, printed out his letter of resignation, and left it in Arthur Teasdale’s in basket. After that he went home and poured himself a stiff drink. He drank half of it and made some calls. The first was to his closest friend, Leroy Nelson out in Oregon; the next was to make reservations for flights to Washington and Portland. After that he finished his drink, had several more, and went to bed.

He was up at seven and wondered, while he brushed his teeth, how Marcie’s meeting was going without the donuts and bagels. The phone started ringing at 7:30. He smiled and ignored it. He heard the answer phone record the message to call the office, ASAP and immediately. A little redundant, don’t you think?

He had an Irish coffee and packed his bag. He was careful in his selection of clothing; he wanted carryon luggage only. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone; if he needed more clothes, he’d buy them as and when. The phone kept ringing every 10 minutes. The messages were increasingly demanding and urgent. At 9:00, he unplugged the phone and erased the messages. His flight was at 1:00 and he was ready by 9:30. He thought about breakfast and opted for a beer instead. Halfway through his second San Miguel, the doorbell rang.

He opened the door and Marcie brushed past him, storming into the living room. Dutch, what the hell’s going on? Arthur told me you submitted your resignation. Why? Why now? You know how important the Van Arnsdale account is. Why are you doing this to me; to us?

He slowly closed the door. Good morning, Marcie. How are you this morning?

How am I? Confused and pissed off! What the hell is going on, Dutch?

He walked to the breakfast bar and picked up his half finished beer. Holding it up, he said, Breakfast mostly. Want one?

No, I don’t want one! Since when do you have beer for breakfast?

Maybe since today. Maybe since always. Maybe since Helmand. He paused. How would you know what I have for breakfast? Christ, this may be a change from JD for all you know.

She paused, surprised by his tone. There was a hint of, . . . what, anger? All right, Dutch, what’s going on? She dialled her tone down several notches. Arthur found your resignation letter in his in tray this morning. What’s the problem? Why didn’t you talk to me last night?

He smiled, saddened that she couldn’t remember he had come to her office to talk, the opportunity lost in the euphoria of the Van Arnsdale win. The win, always the win; Van Arnsdale, before that Rutgers, before that Samovar, and before that… what does it matter?

Last night? You didn’t seem to have any time; something about Van Arnsdale I think. Things got a little… hectic last night, remember? He took a drink. There’s no problem, Marcie; it’s just time to move on. Everything has a cycle. You know, birth, growth, maturity, decline, death; everyone, everything has a life cycle, jobs included.

She looked at him, her lack of understanding tinged with… something; disdain maybe? "What are you talking about? You into some kind of existential Buddhist philosophy or something? Come on, Dutch, what is it really; a raise, vacation, what?"

He drained his beer and went to the refrigerator for another. She watched him, frowning. In three years, she thought she knew all his moods, the few he ever displayed, but she’d never seen him like this. He was… different; cold, deliberate, controlled, and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It bothered her, this elusive something else. She prided herself on her ability to read people. How did I miss this, whatever it is?

Sure you don’t want one? he called out. Breakfast of champions. When she didn’t respond, he shrugged and closed the refrigerator door. Popping the cap, he took a drink and returned to the living room. Where are my manners? Have a seat, Marcie. Would like some breakfast? How about some coffee; juice, toast, eggs and bacon maybe? I have to clean out the fridge anyway and it’ll just go to waste if someone doesn’t eat it.

She took a deep breath. Her voice was calm, reasoned. He recognized the shift. This was the ‘Let’s approach this from a different angle’ mode. What you can get me Dutch, is an explanation. Obviously there’s a problem. You’re angry or unhappy or upset, ormaybe all three. I just want to know what the problem is and what I can do to fix it. She sat down on the sofa and noticed his bag beside the breakfast bar. She looked from the bag to him. Going somewhere?

He sat on a stool and took another drink. Yep; Washington, DC that is, then Portland. After that I’m not sure.

She leaned forward. Why, Dutch? I don’t understand. You’re too young for a mid-life crisis.

I told you, Marcie, it’s that point in the cycle. Everything has a life cycle, and this one is complete. He paused and sighed. I always thought that stuff I read about getting subsumed, losing yourself, getting totally lost was all bullshit, but it isn’t. It happens. I didn’t see it coming; forest and trees, you know?

What the hell is he talking about? Has he gone off the deep end? Lost, life cycle, what the hell? "Look Dutch, I need you. We need you. You’re important to me, to this project. I can’t afford to have you walk away now; not now. Come back, at least until Van Arnsdale is done. After that we can talk, relax, take some time. You can take a nice vacation, company expense, anywhere you like. When you come back, we can reassess; see where we go from there."

The more she said, the sadder it made him. How could I have been so stupid? There’s no way in hell she has any feelings for me. None. Never did, never will. She isn’t worried about me, just what I mean to the project. Don’t think she has feelings for anybody. Sometimes people you work will never be more that the people you work with. Damn boy, you were really whippin’ a dead horse. Lucky you didn’t say anything.

He looked at her and smiled. No we wouldn’t, but it’s okay, Marcie. You just don’t get it and I get you don’t get it. It’s done; I’m done. It is what it is. Nothing going to change you, or me.

"Me? Was it something I did? What, when? Just tell me. We need you, Dutch. I don’t want to do this project without you."

His smile broadened. "But you will. You want to do this project more than anything, with or without me. You don’t need me. You need somebody and you’ll find someone, Marcie. Hell, you found me. There are lots of people out there who can do what I do."

But not everyone can work with me the way you do. This project is too important to break in somebody new. There isn’t the time. You know me, I know you. We work so well together. Come on, Dutch, you love what you do. Stop this nonsense and come back to the office.

He slowly shook his head. You don’t know me at all. That’s the problem. He paused. The project, the project, always the project. You know what? Fuck the project!

She drew back, physically recoiling. She’d never heard him swear. She’d never seen him anything but calm, reasoned, and unflappable. At this moment, she wasn’t sure who this man was.

All right, Dutch, she said getting up. I’m sorry you feel like that. I’m sorry things have to end this way. She paused. Looking at him, she felt a number of conflicting emotions, some of which she didn’t understand. Good luck.

She turned and walked toward the door. As she opened it she heard him say, Thanks, Marcie. Good bye. She was back on the street and into a cab without any recollection of how she got there. Dutch stared at the door for a long time after she left. There was certain finality in the sound of it closing.

He won’t change his mind, Arthur. Marcie was pacing back and forth in front of his desk. I just saw him. He said some really strange things, but the bottom line is, he won’t change his mind. He says he’s going to Portland by way of DC, but I don’t know why.

Did you ask him?

All he said was everything has a life cycle. What does that mean?

But did you ask him why he’s going there, to Washington and Portland?

No.

Why not?

I want to know why he’s leaving, not where he’s going.

Teasdale sighed. I was afraid this would happen.

Marcie was surprised. You knew this was going to happen? Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me?

I stay out of people’s personal lives, unless they invite me to interfere, of course.

Personal lives? This is business, Arthur.

No, it isn’t, Marcie.

I don’t understand.

I know. Dutch is in love with you, Marcie. He has been for a couple of years now. Even I could see it.

She leaned back in the chair, shocked. In love with me? Dutch? How was that even possible? He never said anything; he never did anything. He never let me know how he felt. Dutch Yancy? That’s ridiculous! "Arthur, you can’t be serious! Dutch Yancy, in love with me? Where did you get an idea like that?"

It was obvious, Marcie; well not you, of course. You’re get so completely immersed in your projects, you have a hard time seeing anything else. That’s what makes you so good at what you do. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do much for your personal life but, as I said, I stay out of people’s personal lives.

She was having trouble getting to grips with the idea of Dutch being in love with her. How is that possible? How did I not know? Why do I think it’s impossible?

Arthur, what am I going to do? I need him. I need him on this project. I need him on all my projects. He’s special.

What’s so special about him?

She paused. Well, what is so special about Dutch? Was he so technically proficient that no one else could do what he did? No, of course not. Then what? Teasdale waited patiently. Finally she said, He’s innovative Arthur, and that’s what we’re all about. He comes up with solutions that other people don’t see, even when it has nothing to do with his area. And…

And?

"And he can work with me. I get, . . . ratty sometimes, especially when things aren’t going well. I can be impatient and short tempered. I’ve almost lost several people because of it. At one time or another, everybody on my team has threatened to quit; everyone except Dutch. Somehow he just ignores it and gets me to work through the problem, even smoothes